


Heroic Monologuing

by Aiur



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-02 13:08:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2813099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aiur/pseuds/Aiur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucina succeeds in performing the Awakening with Tiki, but tragedy strikes and a new hero must step forward to vanquish the foe.</p>
<p>(SPOILERS: The Future's Past DLC)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The Fire Emblem Awakening setting and characters belong to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo. Any other works referenced belong to their respective owners. I own nothing.
> 
> A/N: This story presents an alternate ending to The Future’s Past DLC series in Fire Emblem Awakening, deviating immediately after Lucina performs the Awakening and attempts to strike Grima.

Falchion spun end over end through the rusty sky out of the explosion of blue, purple, and black magic of the Fell Dragon’s expiration. The blade stopped abruptly when the tip of the sword lodged between two tiles of a ruined fresco on the roof of the shattered remains of the once great palace at Ylisstol.

The remnants of the younger Shepherds watched as the Fire Emblem fell from the charred corpse of Lucina, their Exalt and the last hope for their continued existence. Lucina had performed the Awakening with Tiki, had held Falchion wreathed in blue flames above her head and charged at Grima with a battle cry on her lips. And now Lucina smoked and crackled as sparks of purple magic fell from her blackened body.

Grima, or at least the humanoid form wrapped in shadow that served as Grima’s avatar, made a low rumbling noise that morphed into a basso chuckle before growing into an overpowering laugh. The gigantic head of the Fell Dragon’s true form retreated away from the palace, all six of its purple eyes gleaming with malice.

Most of the Shepherds were still engaged with the ludicrously strong Risen that swarmed over the battlements to protect their master.

Cynthia, paralyzed with more despair than she ever thought possible, continued to gape as her sister’s burned and unsupported ligaments finally gave out and Lucina’s remains collapsed into a pile of bone and ash with occasional melted metal flecks that had once been part of her armor mixed in. She didn’t notice the armored corpse crashing towards her until its silver lance pierced the neck of her flying steed from the side.

Reflexes honed in countless hours of training for both battle and heroic posing caused Cynthia to kick off the back of the pegasus before she had time to process what had happened. She hit the ground hard and rolled away from the spasm of hooves and wings made by her dying mount.

Cynthia sprang to her feet, ready to parry next thrust with what remained of her spear, only to be saved as Gerome led Minerva in a steep dive in front of her. Minerva’s jaws closed around the incoming lance and snapped it in half while Gerome used the momentum of the dive to bury his poleaxe in the shoulder of the Risen, cleaving it in half from shoulder to hip.

She opened her mouth to thank him, but was interrupted by a voice that chilled her to the bone.

“Look on your champion, the pathetic last Exalt Lucina, and despair!” shouted Grima’s avatar in his deep, rumbling voice. “Even the power of this new Naga cannot save you! Now embrace your deaths!”

The dragon overhead roared in triumph.

“No,” a voice whispered.

“What was that?” asked Grima.

“I said no! NO!” shouted Cynthia, dropping her now useless spear and running forward. Her right hand stretched out and grasped Falchion’s hilt. As she pulled Falchion from the cracked fresco of a red flame-like face in a white circle, a crest from one of the many now defunct noble houses of Ylisse, the blue flames that had surrounded the blade after Lucina performed the Awakening returned.

A shockwave of air burst out from the sacred sword, causing Cynthia’s blue pigtails to billow wildly behind her. Despite this, Cynthia’s demeanor radiated a calm confidence.

“My sis is dead. She is gone from this world,” Cynthia said. Her voice was no longer quiet, amplified by the power of Naga – Tiki? – with a mystic quality that was as magnificent as the voice of Grima was terrible.

“However! In my eye,” Cynthia continued to speak as the Brand of house Ylisse pulsed brightly in her right eye and continued to glow in a vibrant blue light, “and in my heart, she continues to live on!” She pounded her left hand on her chest for emphasis, like any good hero when making an impassioned speech.

“A hero fights from the heavens to all hells. No matter what’s in my way, I won’t stop! And once I’ve vanquished you, I will have found victory!” Cynthia shouted, her conviction growing with every word. All around the roof top, the remaining children watched in awe as their new Exalt kicked reason to the curb and did the impossible. Their feelings of despair burned away in the cleansing blue fire that now burned around Cynthia’s body and in a crown around her head.

“What? What are you blathering about?” asked the avatar, with a look of confusion and what might have been panic on its shadow-obscured face.

“Who the hell do you think I am?” Cynthia said as her voice swelled into a roar, “I’m Cynthia. Not my sis, Lucina. I’m me! Cynthia the Hero!”

As the words left her mouth, Cynthia locked both hands around Falchion’s hilt and began a charge towards Grima’s shrouded form.

“So you insist upon defying me! Then face my ultimate power!” Grima shouted right back as the liquid smoke around it expanded into a red and purple flame. “Ignis!”

The bolt of the same black and purple magic that had ended Lucina’s life now flew straight at Cynthia, still mid charge. Her reflexes kicked in again, this time bringing Falchion straight down in a two-handed, overhead arc. The glowing blade intercepted the pulsating projectile and arrested its flight midair, but Cynthia’s charge was similarly halted.

Memories of faces flashed before Cynthia’s eyes. Lucina, encouraging her to work harder every day. Her mother, letting her ride a pegasus for the first time. Lucina, laughing at the antics of the Justice Cabal. Her father, calling her his Pega Pony Princess. Lucina, tears in her eyes as assumed the title of Exalt at age nine and still promised to save everyone. Lucina, telling her that she was the best little sister ever.

Tears streamed freely down Cynthia’s face, but the blue flames enveloping her only expanded. Drawing internal strength from the precious memories of her family, now all dead due to Grima, Cynthia finally succeeded in diverting the bolt of magic away. Even though the bolt careened into the brown and red sky, the cherry blossoms that accompanied the attack remained trapped in a vortex spinning around her body.

“Certain kill!”

Kjelle gasped in shock.

“That technique…” Owain whispered softly to himself with more than a little envy.

Cynthia completed her charge and swung Falchion up, knocking Grima’s avatar higher into the air than should have been possible by strength alone. Bars of blue flames locked his arms and legs in place on either side of his body, now suspended in midair. Falchion continued to ascend, spinning in an arc.

Cynthia crouched down for a small moment before rocketing up at barely visible speeds and surrounded by a flaming blue aura.

“GREAT! AETHER!!!” she yelled as she caught her blade by the hilt mid-spin and brought it to bare against the Fell Dragon’s human form. She hacked at it again and again, flames of blue and orange sprouting from the impacts of her blade in brilliant displays. She even mixed in a few kicks in the abdomen and groin, for good measure. Feeling the crescendo of power she was drawing from the magic of the Awakening reach its zenith, Cynthia once again brought Naga’s tooth over her head in a two-hand grip and struck down with all the force she could muster.

The bonds locking Grima in place failed as Cynthia rode the momentum of her strike down with Grima in tow before impacting the palace roof with the force of a meteorite impact.

Cynthia jumped out of the crater with a graceful back flip ending in an elegant pirouette to face her nemesis.

“… At last… I have control…” said the avatar of Grima, no longer in a reverberating, all-encompassing presence, but in a normal voice. “… No one else… will suffer… because of me…”

Black flames began to consume the figure, parts of his body burning way into nothing. Behind him, the Fell Dragon itself fell from the sky as its body too was engulfed by flame and purple sparks.

“… Lucina… please forgive me… I tried my best…”

The fires finished their gruesome work and went out, not even leaving ashes to be scattered by the wind as the clouds that had covered the world for most of Cynthia’s life began to dissipate. The Risen her friends had been fighting were disappearing now too, breaking apart along with all other traces of the dark magic used by the Fell Dragon to blight the world.

Cynthia didn’t know what to think of Grima’s last words. She didn’t particularly care at the moment either. She had become the hero she always wanted to be, at a cost she never wanted to pay.

She was more than just a hero now, though. She was the Exalt of Ylisse, and she had a country to rebuild.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter begins at exactly the same time as the previous one. They do not, however, coincide.

Falchion spun end over end through the rusty sky out of the explosion of blue, purple, and black magic of the Fell Dragon’s expiration. The blade stopped abruptly when the tip of the sword lodged between two tiles of a ruined fresco on the roof of the shattered remains of the once great palace at Ylisstol.

The remnants of the younger Shepherds watched as the Fire Emblem fell from the charred corpse of Lucina, their Exalt and the last hope for their continued existence. Lucina had performed the Awakening with Tiki, had held Falchion wreathed in blue flames above her head and charged at Grima with a battle cry on her lips. And now Lucina smoked and crackled as sparks of purple magic fell from her blackened body.

Grima, or at least the humanoid form wrapped in shadow that served as Grima’s avatar, made a low rumbling noise that morphed into a basso chuckle before growing into an overpowering laugh. The gigantic head of the Fell Dragon’s true form retreated away from the palace, all six of its purple eyes gleaming with malice.

Most of the Shepherds were still engaged with the ludicrously strong Risen that swarmed over the battlements to protect their master.

Inigo cried out as his sister’s burned and unsupported ligaments finally gave out and Lucina’s remains collapsed into a pile of bone and ash with occasional melted metal flecks that had once been part of her armor mixed in.

His older sister, the heir and hero of house Ylisse, the leader of the Shepherds and last hope for humanity, was dead. Inigo wanted to sit down and cry. He wanted to slink away from the battle and dance away his despair. He wanted to be comforted by his mother and his father. He wanted his sister to stay with him.

When he had been born, the Halidom had rejoiced. Dark winds blew from Valm in the west, and the people of Ylisse were understandably nervous. Their beloved Exalt Emmeryn had died by the fell hand of an assassin, and Chrom’s desire to command the armies of the realm himself placed him in immediate danger should the worst come to pass. A male heir meant security, and another blue-haired king with the blood of the Hero to save them in their hour of need.

As Inigo grew up, though, the heart of the realm began to change. Chrom began teaching his daughter his own unique art of swordsmanship to the surprise of many in his court. There were objections at first, until Chrom pointed out that had Emmeryn been trained for combat, the assassination wouldn’t have occurred, and that he would not let the same befall his daughter. The last objections died when it became clear that Lucina was more than an average swordswoman – she had a grace that Chrom never did while maintaining all of his strength and ferocity, which many attributed to their lady mother. That, and Falchion responded to her hand, but not to Inigo’s.

When Chrom went in force to heed the Plegian envoy’s summons and failed to return, the realm crowned the child they thought most likely to lead them to victory – Inigo’s sister, Lucina.

In truth, it had been a relief. Inigo didn’t want the pressure of leading a nation in forever darkening times. He continued his own arms training, at first vowing vengeance for his father and mother. As things deteriorated, Naga warned them all that the awakened Falchion wielded by one who it accepted might be the only thing able to destroy the Fell Dragon that now ravaged the world. Without the ability to wield Falchion, his all of Inigo’s training seemed pointless.

And so, even though he was the definitive heir to the throne, he allowed himself to slip into Lucina’s protective shadow. As he grew older, he would seek pleasure with what women he could find, and he would sneak away from council meetings to dance by starlight, but he knew that this was only tolerated by Lucina because of her guilty desire for him fully experience childhood in a way she was never able to.

It was because she loved him.

And now, the last woman to truly love him was dead.

A Risen berserker charged at his flank, the gleaming edge of a killer axe held high and ready to strike for his blood. Fortunately, Inigo’s private dance practice was easily incorporated into his martial training. With a half-pirouette to the left, Inigo dodged the axe head and slipped the tip of his blade through his opponent’s neck, severing the head and causing the corpse to collapse instantly.

Others still fought the horde, but there seemed to be no end in sight.

“Look on your champion, the pathetic last Exalt Lucina, and despair!” shouted Grima’s avatar in his deep, rumbling voice. “Even the power of this new Naga cannot save you! Now embrace your deaths!”  
The dragon overhead roared in triumph.  
It was too much. “You take that back.”

“What was that?” asked Grima.  
“What you said about my sister. You take it back right now,” Inigo said in a calm voice.

Grima did not respond with words. The dragon bellowed and the avatar made a sloppy gesture with his left arm, and four Risen swordmasters rose out of the tiles of the mosaic that had once covered the roof of the palace at Ylisstol and charged at Inigo.

The first foe approached from Inigo’s left. He swept up and to the left with his sword, slicing open the corpse’s stomach while allowing it’s momentum to carry it past him on his left side. The second swordmaster came from the right, and was quickly dispatched by a stab through the chest, which was quickly retracted to free his blade. The third Risen was coming at him now, but he heard shambling to his left and swiveled his wrist to give a sharp stab backwards. The feeling of the first Risen staggering against the blow was sweet. Inigo whipped the blade out of the enemy behind him and over his shoulder into a downward slash at the enemy that had now closed in front of him, opening a clean gash through its neck. The last swordmaster came at him with a high swing clearly meant to take his head off. Inigo dropped to one knee in a pseudo-lunge and thrust his silver sword forward and slightly up, bypassing the rib cage to pierce the heart and dropping the foe with nothing but a shallow groan.

The avatar of Grima stared at Inigo in what could only be described as shock. “Who are you?”

“I am Inigo of Ylisse. You have destroyed my country. Prepare to die!” Inigo said in a crescendo as he stood up and charged the avatar.

The shock on Grima’s face disappeared and was replaced with rage. Grima pulled a tome from somewhere within his robes, and Inigo was knocked back against the base of a toppled column when a Thoron beam lanced through his belly.

He clutched his shirt over the wound with his left hand. Thankfully, the beam was narrow and had seared the wound, making it unlikely he would bleed out any time soon. A mend stave charge would probably fix him. That didn’t mean he was well, though. Inigo’s legs began to burn, like they would when he slept on them in a poor position. He might have plenty of blood, but his legs were receiving almost none of it.

“I’m sorry father. I tried… I tried.” Inigo whispered to himself.

Still, that was no reason to give up. He had to get vengeance for his sister, his mother, his father, all of the people of Ylisse and the world who had died at Grima’s hands. Glancing around him, Falchion still stood where it had fallen, the hilt only little more than an arm’s length away and angled toward him.

“Now I see. You must be that Ylissean brat the previous Exalt begged me to spare all those years ago. Simply incredible. You’ve wanted to kill me you whole life, only to fail now. And right after I had killed your sister, too.” Grima was now talking directly to him. His voice was silky, a far cry from the basso reverberations he used earlier. “I think that’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard… How marvelous.”

Inigo could only grimace in pain as he tried to stand up, but fell when his legs gave out. Still, Falchion was now within reach.

“Good heavens, are you still trying to win?” Grima smoothly asked as the avatar strolled towards him.

Inigo grasped Falchion by the hilt, but choked as some blood came up into his mouth and fell back against the base of the destroyed column. He stayed on his feet, but it was a near thing.

“You’ve got an over-developed sense of vengeance. It’s going to get you into trouble someday.” Grima stepped forward with feline grace, putting away his Thoron tome and bringing his own sword to bear.

The rest of the battle raged around them, but to Inigo the world had shrunk. He thumbed the hilt the way he had seen Lucina do it countless times to mend her own injuries with the divine power of Naga’s spirit. Or was it Tiki’s spirit now? Regardless of the source, he could feel the healing energy slip down his arm and into his belly. The effect was not as rapid as when Lucina did it, but he could feel blood slowly returning to his legs.

Still not able to move his legs well enough to dodge, Inigo could only parry the incoming strike away from his heart. Grima’s blade stabbed through his left shoulder, and again through his right arm. Grima became visibly frustrated, and came at him with an overhead arc.

This time, he had enough energy to put force behind his parry and to block the immediate riposte. Inigo slowly pushed off the wall. Falchion’s healing was nearing completion, and strength began to return to his voice. “Hello. My name is Inigo of Ylisse. You killed my father. Prepare to die.”

Inigo fell on his side against another piece of rubble, clearly not as healed as he thought. He thumbed the hilt to give himself another mend charge. Grima gave him a glare and lunged once again.

Three lightning-quick strikes were parried once again, although Inigo was not foolish enough to attempt his own attack just yet. Like any good performer, he had to stall for time while preparations were made for the great reveal. So, he said, “Hello. My name is Inigo of Ylisse. You killed my mother. Prepare to die.” He even added a small nod at the end, eye brows raised in a taunting way.

Grima struck again, this time with a flurry of blows that could have rent armor and cleaved any man in two. He blocked each with more ferocity, the sharp blade of Falchion beginning to glow with blue light, just as it had when his sister wielded it against this same man minutes ago.

Inigo wondered why Grima didn’t simply blast him to bits with a spell, or blast him with the foul breath of the dragon above them, but it was simple enough to figure out. Lucina had been killed by the dragon’s breath when she was knocked away from close-combat with the avatar. The breath would harm him as well. As for the Thoron tome, if Grima tried to use that now he would be an easy target for Inigo with Falchion. By coming close to Inigo to gloat, Grima had committed himself to sword combat. Now that Inigo’s full strength was returned to him, he pushed his advantage.

“HELLO! My name is Inigo of Ylisse. You killed me sister. Prepare to die!”

Grima finally snapped. “Stop saying that!” he raged. He swung wide to attack Inigo’s left, but Inigo parried and managed to pierce the avatar’s left arm. Grima’s avatar ignored the pain and attacked again, this time with a wide arc to Inigo’s right. He once again parried and used the counter-attack to put the sacred blade through Grima’s right arm.

Falchion began to glow an even brighter, and the Brand of Ylisse seemed to reflect the blue light strongly. Grima began to back away, but Inigo pressed on.

“Hello! My name is Inigo of Ylisse! You killed my family! Prepare to die!” Inigo shouted, punctuating every sentence with a strike of the sacred blade. Grima parried and dodged what he could, but the final strike flung the sword from the avatar’s hands.

Inigo could see the very real fear in the avatar’s eyes, and knew that the end was near. The desperation of such a monster sickened him, but he had to make Grima feel as hopeless as he had each time one of his loved ones died. Inigo wanted Grima to beg.

With a swipe, a gash appeared across the avatar’s cheek. “Offer me money.”

“Yes,” was the deadly serious reply after a short period of disbelief. The desperation remained, but perhaps Grima hoped to get out of this situation still.

Inigo gave another swipe, and a reciprocal gash opened on the other side of Grima’s face. “Power too, promise me that.”

Grima’s reply was quick this time. “All that I have and more. _Please._ ”

Inigo pulled back his hand in a mock-pleading gesture and said, “Offer me everything I ask for.”

“Anything you want!” Grima said, although now he seemed to be getting frustrated. Inigo decided to end it now.

Grima made for his sword, but Inigo stabbed out with Falchion in what was a sure killing blow. With more emotion than he meant to show, he was able to say the final words he wanted Grima to ever hear.

“I want my family back you son of a bitch.”

Ingio twisted Falchion and drove it up before letting the dying avatar slide off the tip.

“… At last… I have control…” said the avatar of Grima, no longer in a reverberating, all-encompassing presence or a silky smooth accent, but in a normal voice. “… No one else… will suffer… because of me…”

Black flames began to consume the figure, parts of his body burning way into nothing. Behind him, the Fell Dragon itself fell from the sky as its body too was engulfed by flame and purple sparks.

“… Lucina… please forgive me… I tried my best…”

The fires finished their gruesome work and went out, not even leaving ashes to be scattered by the wind as the clouds that had covered the world for most of Inigo’s life began to dissipate. The Risen his friends had been fighting were disappearing now too, breaking apart along with all other traces of the dark magic used by the Fell Dragon to blight the world.

Ingio didn’t know what to think of Grima’s last words. He didn’t particularly care at the moment either. He had avenged his father and mother, but at a cost he never wanted to pay.  
He muttered to himself with a soft voice, “I have wanted revenge for so long, but now that it is over, I do not know what to do for the rest of my life…”

The wind continued to blow, and his friends gathered around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Credit for most of the dialogue and quite a bit of the action obviously goes to the writers of The Princess Bride. Thanks for reading! I would appreciate any and all critiques, especially constructive criticism. If you would like a response, the easiest way to contact me is by PM.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Yes, that was Cynthia's version of the "My Bro is Dead" speech from Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann. Thank you very much for reading! I would appreciate any and all critiques, especially constructive criticism. If you would like a response, the easiest way to contact me is by PM.


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